


fugacious

by painintheassnojutsu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Little bit angsty, Rated for swearing, Self-Insert, Socialism, Trigender Character, main character is terrified of men and dogs, no beta we die like illiterate fools, socialist sasuke rise!!, the author likes to project shit on sasuke, warnings at the beginnings of chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painintheassnojutsu/pseuds/painintheassnojutsu
Summary: Here’s what I know: my name is Uchiha Sasuke; my family was massacred, except for the murderer himself, Itachi;and I don’t care, because I never knew them in the first place.Turns out I care a little bit.





	1. insouciant #1

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for chapter one: panic attacks kinda, references to something? that makes the main character uncomfortable with men (could be seen as reference to past rape or something similar, so tread lightly), reference to torture and/or interrogation, sasuke is wearing dresses and stuff so if you don’t like that i advise you to like. leave.
> 
> (not big but ch 1 edited 11/28/18 to switch the word communist to socialist, cause the two are different and i didn’t wanna confuse anyone  
> 12/1/18: title changed from insouciant to fugacious  
> 7/10/19: minor edits to all chapters)

Here’s what I know: my name is Uchiha Sasuke; my family was massacred, except for the murderer himself, Itachi; I don’t care, because I never knew them in the first place; and I’m not actually sure where I am at first, but it isn’t home.

(And here’s how I know.) 

_#_

One morning I wake up. I wake up, and everything is fine for a moment. Everything is great. That constant ache in my shoulder isn’t so prominent, I think my eyesight isn’t as bad as normal (weird, I’ll admit, but I’ve heard of things like this happening before), the curtains are closed, and there seem to be no weird aches or pains in my body.

And then I look.

_Where am I?_

I stare at the blue curtains, the green walls, and my grip on the cute dinosaur plush I held in my sleep tightens. Where is this? I look at my feet, wondering at how small they suddenly are. How big everything else suddenly is. I’m sitting up, but the ceiling seems so far . . . so far away.

And didn’t I wear my socks to bed? I can’t sleep without socks—never have, never will. It’s so cold. I’m so cold. I’m freezing. A glance at the door tells me I’m not alone.

Someone was in the room while I slept. A _man_ was in the room while I—

And suddenly my eyes are full of tears and I’m scrambling to get away—get away—

(I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know why I’m so fucking scared.)

I fall onto the floor—my head smacks against it hard enough to leave a bump that’ll last for days—and I start to sob. “Who are you? What are you doing in my room? Get out, please, please go,” I cry out.

The masked man stares at me.

He disappears for a moment before reappearing right beside me. His fingers glow green and my headache is gone, the bump is gone. I’m still crying.

“Get _away_ from me!” I push him, to no avail, and punch his stupid, stupid mask. “Go away! Leave me alone! Stop!” 

_What the fuck kinda language am I—is this Japanese?_

“Calm down, child. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

“The last thing I remember is you being a fucking creep and refusing to leave me alone—LEAVE ME ALONE—just get away, go—stop bothering me, get out of my room! You aren’t fucking welcome here!” I start hitting him again, in the chest as hard as I can until—until he grabs my hands and suddenly I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t even blink _Iwanttodie_ —

“I said. Calm. Down.” 

“You aren’t making me comfortable and willing to do so! Get the _fuck_ away from me and maybe I will calm the fuck down— _get off of me!_ ”

He hesitates.

He disappears to the other side of the room again.

I pull my blanket off the bed and wrap it around myself, mentally—and verbally, but quietly—consoling myself.

“Do you know your name?”

“Name? What the fuck kind of question is that? Abraham fucking Lincoln—for Christ’s sake, who do you _think_ I am? Not Abraham Lincoln, that’s for sure. Do you even fucking know me? What the fuck are you doing in here?”

The man sighs. “I take it you don’t know your name then?” 

“ . . . I do not.”

_#_

The man takes me to an office where I am greeted by a strangely familiar old man. It might just be that many old men look the same, but I think I actually recognize this one.

“Uchiha Sasuke,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

There is another old man sat beside him, this one more familiar but in an uncomfortable, scary, strange kind of way. I try to take a step back, but the man from before is blocking my path. He puts his hands on top of my shoulders, and I start to cry again.

After that, all I can recall is the scary old man yelling at me for crying and the trying-to-be-nice old man doing nothing to dissuade the scary one.

Then the mean man disappears and leaves me all alone. 

And then I pass out, and when I wake up, the sight I’m greeted with is not a cheerful one. The room is gray and there appear to be mirrors covering two opposite walls. Feels like a . . . an interrogation room. This is an interrogation room.

It’s cold. I’m so cold. The scary man is sitting in front of me again, his free hand on the table, his eyes on me, his eyepatch seeping blood from the bottom . . .

“So, Sasuke. Let’s talk about the massacre.”

_#_

I’m—dizzy. I’m tired. I’m so, so tired. What was that? What even was that? My tongue hurts . . . what the fuck did he—do to me?

My mouth feels weird.

I’m so tired. 

Every time I try to think about what just happened . . . I get dizzy again. Did he. Seal my tongue?

Oh god.

I just realized where I am. Who Uchiha Sasuke is. Fuck. How could I fucking forget? Fuck fuckfuck fuck fuc kFUCk

I’m so fucking fucked, fuck this.

That man . . . is back.

I close my eyes, and I fall.

_#_

When I open my eyes, the man is there again.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Can’t you stay outside when I’m asleep instead of being in the room with me?”

“I can’t. Have to watch over you, sorry.”

“It’s creepy. Are you a pedophile?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Well, are you?”

“I’m not. Anyone under the age of twenty-four disgusts me. No offense.”

“None taken! Good job on being a decent human being! What’s your name?”

“Um. No offense, uh, I’m not really . . . allowed to say my name. Kind of, uh.” He taps on his mask lightly. 

“Ah. Right. The ol’ ball and chain. Ha . . . I’m funny, right? Right?”

“If you say so.”

_#_

“It’s just so unfair! You know my name, why can’t I know yours, y’know!! This is so stupid—quit ANBU and come find me, bitch!” I complain. 

The man clears his throat, clearly covering up laughter. “Sure, Sasuke.”

“You’re an asshole! I bet if I spent some time in the jōnin headquarters and saw everyone, I’d figure out in a second!”

“Ah, but only shinobi are allowed in Jōnin HQ,” the man says. “Too bad you’re just a student, huh?”

He’s making fun of me. “You’re making fun of me! You fucking bitch! Fuck you, boy! You suck ass!” 

He laughs. “I feel like there are, like, tons of different ways you could’ve turned out after . . . that, and this might just be one of the best ways.” 

“After what? Oh, the massacre? What even happened? I don’t remember anything. Like, _anything_ , I didn’t even know my name until that old guy said it.” 

“Oh, fuck me . . . “ 

“Didn’t you say you _weren’t_ a pedo?”

_#_

“Do you need me to come in with you? I’ll wear a henge—”

“Please.” 

“Okay. Do you remember the way to the academy, or should I lead?” 

“You.”

“Gotcha. Got everything? Notebook, practice weapons, lunch, pen?” 

“Yep, yup, nope, and several.”

“Buy one on the way or risk cooking one now?”

“Buy it!”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

_#_

“Hey, Sasuke! Sasuke, sit next to me!” a blonde girl with a ponytail yells at me the moment I enter the classroom. I glance at the man, and he pulls me back out the classroom for a brief conversation. 

(He told me to call him Hen, because that’s his ANBU animal, but that’s stupid.)

“Does she overwhelm you? Maybe sit next to Naruto . . . you two got along the first time you met, and I don’t think you’ve talked since then—he’s not even here. Never mind. Sit next to Shino if you don’t have something against bugs, or maybe Tobio.”

“How do you know all their names? Aren’t you a Not-Pedophile?” 

“Hush, kiddo.”

“Are there any girls that don’t like me?” 

“Hinata.”

“I’ll sit next to her. Boys make me uncomfortable, and the rest of the girls are too . . . well, I love girls, girls rule the fucking _world_ , I love them, but these girls are so obsessive. I’ll hang out with them when I’m in a better mindset and am willing to deal with their bullshit.”

The man snorts. “Sure. Go on, then. I’m still assigned to you, so I’ll be creeping invisibly in the room or just outside, but I’ll talk to you again either at lunch or after school—depends when you get too stressed.”

“Not if?”

“I’ve met you. Excuse me for having realistic expectations.”

“Asshole.” 

“Far from the worst I’ve been called.”

_#_

Class is boring. Iruka-sensei talks about the founding of Konoha—and it’s funny, because we talked about the exact same thing four weeks ago, twelve days before the massacre, according to my notebook, and right now it’s painting the Uchiha clan as a whole as the good guys, while last time it painted them as the bad guys.

It’s funny.

After the history lesson, we did basic math and practiced with kunai. Then lunch came along.

“Sasuke, Sasuke! Your clan was full of heroes, I’m so sorry for your loss. Do you wanna sit with me for lunch?” some girl asks me.

“I mean,” I start, staring at her strangely. Is she serious? Is she really, _really_ serious? “Not really? You’re kind of bothering me, and I want to be alone since, you know, my entire family aside from my traitor brother just literally got murdered while I was at school?”

The girl flinches. “O—oh! I’m so sorry! I’ll leave you alone then! Ha—have a nice lunch!” 

She scrambles to get back to her small group of friends, and none of the girls bother me after that.

None of the girls doesn’t mean none of the boys, though. “Hey, hey, what’s up with your face dude? You happy or somethin’? That’s creepy! I’ve never seen you make that face before!” Kiba exclaims.

He has no empathy.

“Uh? Piss off, bro?” I say, an eyebrow raised. “Whatcha need, or are you just being a piece of shit for no reason?”

After a moment of silence, Kiba cackles, sudden and loud. “You’re a freakin’ riot, man!” 

“That’s nice. Get your dog away from me before I cry and tell the teacher you were harassing me, thanks.”

“Oh, shit.” 

_#_

“Shit, kid, you got somethin’ against dogs?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha. Uh . . . anyway. You really know how to manipulate people, huh. That girl was freaking out—the boy nearly panicked as well,” the man muses.

“Hmm.” I glance both ways—habit—as I cross to the opposite side of the large pathway that I would call a road but, well, no cars. “We’re going to the store, can you drop by my house real quick and get money?”

“Man, I’m just a glorified servant, huh?” the man asks, pouting (he’s in henge still—how good are his chakra reserves, the fuck. It’s been nine hours.)

“Go on, now.” 

The man sighs, disappearing and reappearing minutes later. By the time he’s back, I’m already inside a clothing shop, looking at the price tags on dresses in my size. (Or maybe Sasuke’s? No, my size. It’s my body now.)

“Dresses? Hmm, maybe a yellow one would look nice,” the man says.

“You aren’t going to question the fact I’m looking at dresses? Good man, keep up the good human thing,” I compliment him, grabbing two yellow dresses. “Is there a dressing room?” 

“Back of the store!” a woman shouts from the checkout counter. 

I nod and walk to the back of the store. One of the dresses I grabbed was sleeveless, zipping at the side rather than the back. The other had magenta flower decals on the skirt, and was short sleeved. 

“Try to be quick, you still have to buy groceries tonight,” the man informs me.

“Okay—oh, go grab the next size down for this one.” I hand him the sleeveless dress. “It’s too big.” 

“Alright.” 

_#_

“Hitoka-san,” I say at the counter, noting her name tag, “do you happen to have any leggings in a smaller size?”

“Yup-yup! Right over—here! Color?”

“White ones, please.”

“Here you are. Will these fit you, Sasuke-kun?” 

“Mmm . . . yes. Perfect, thank you!” I shove the leggings into my basket, grabbing a second and third pair for good measure, and I walk back to the dresses. “Hey, man-guy-dude, we’re gonna look at skirts now. I want a black skirt—multiple black skirts—and a yellow shirt. Did I tell you yellow is my favorite color? Well, it is. Anyway, go look for yellow or orange shirts in size small for me, would you?”

“Okay. You know what, we should get you to see a doctor about this amnesia—”

“I’m good without memories of traumatic incidents and possible abuse from non-Uchiha, thank you. Go on, now.”

“Alright.”

“I don’t want vibrant colors!” I remind him before grabbing some skirts. Some are very cheap, and very strong material. 

And I can make use of these. After all, sewing is one of my better skills, along with self-defense and cooking. Who knew being part of a dangerous, sexist world could come in handy?

_#_

“No offense,” the man says after we check out, “but some of those skirts are seriously ugly.”

“I know. I’m not going to wear them,” I inform him.

“Then why’d you buy them?”

“See, feel how strong that material is. It’s like a weapons pouch, right? I’m going to cut it up and sew it to the insides of the skirt and dress pockets—which aren’t actually included but I’ll make them. And they can have zippers! Or buttons, but zippers are funner. Oh! Magnetic buttons! Being a glorified murderer is gonna be so much fun.”

“Gods save us all . . . the day you become a shinobi is the day the Fourth Shinobi War begins, eh?” 

“No, that comes a couple years after. I’m totally going to overthrow the government,” I say as humorously as physically possible so the man thinks I’m joking. I’m not joking. I’m going to murder those bastards in cold fucking blood and destroy the fucking patriarchy.

(Socialist Sasuke fucking rise. I’ll destroy those bastards and their fucked up government. Fuck politics, though.)

The man laughs. “That’s nice. So, kunai pockets? Oh, or maybe senbon? I love senbon, I can teach you to use senbon!”

Aaaand _click_ , there he is.

Shiranui Genma is my ANBU watchguard.


	2. insouciant #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmmm? it’s been a. day?????? wild. have some words!!! they’re free with optional payment of kudos and/or comments (or some money on ko-fi (in my bio) if you really really really love me,,,,sorry i’m like fishing for compliments and stuff rip my soul.) you guys are cute you write nice comments i love all of you here’s some shit,,,  
> warnings for chapter two: references to sexism in the beginning and a transphobic comment around the middle!

Shiranui Genma, I think, is the weirdest man I know. In fact, he’s strange enough to be the only man I willingly talk to—I avoid shops run by men, I avoid streets where I know men traverse more commonly, I don’t like to associate with male classmates, I won’t even answer Iruka-sensei’s questions to me half the time. 

It’s probably because I was raised in a world where men were dangerous, where at every turn I was paranoid a man would hurt me in some way, a world where any woman was easier to talk to and safer to be near than any man—a world where I couldn’t even trust my psychiatrist. A world where I wasn’t allowed to walk places alone.

Women are safe, and men are not.

That’s what I was taught.

And that’s why I avoid men. This world is more dangerous, but. It’s safer at the same time.

I’m a guy now, and even though I wear dresses and skirts, even though I know I’m actively being watched and hunted by dozens of people—maybe even more—that makes me safer than I ever was at home.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand, Genma is weird. He’s unlike anyone— _anyone—_ I’ve met. He’s weird. This is weird.

Being Sasuke is weird. Everything’s just so weird now.

Well, in any case, I’m having lunch with about half the girls in the class right now, and. Well. They’re obsessed with the dress thing.

“Sasuke, Sasuke, I love your dress! It’s really pretty, where’d you get it?” Ino asks.

“Oh, I don’t remember the shop name, but the owner’s name was Hitoka . . . Inui Hitoka, I think?”

“Oh!” one of the girls—Anzu, so Inui Anzu—exclaims. “My sister! She makes lovely dresses, huh?”

“Yeah! I especially like the materials she uses! The colors are very nice as well.” I mess with the skirt of my dress. “Yellow is my favorite color.”

“Mine’s purple!”

“Ooh, I like red.”

“Me too!”

“I like lime green best!”

“Oh, but purple is so pretty!”

“Hmm, but blue.”

“You’re all right! Colors are great! My favorite’s orange, though,” Naruto chips in all of a sudden.

“Orange is very nice,” I agree, stopping any complaints of his appearance before they happen.

“Hey, Sasuke, do you like girls or boys?” Ino asks, very suddenly and out of the blue.

“What? Romantically? Neither. As a friend? Girls rule the fucking world. _Most_ guys can go suck themselves, I don’t give a fuck about them.”

“Huh.” 

“One of you girls should be hokage,” I add. “You’re all awesome. Maybe Ino?”

“Oh! Um, thank you!”

“Yeah, anyway—”

“Sasuke-kun, what are you wearing that for?” a man interrupts.

“Huh?” I turn and stare at the newcomer. He’s right beside me. _Too close_. “Wha—what do you mean?”

“Why are you wearing a dress?” the white haired man asks. I think for a second that he’s old, but he looks relatively young. This man is Mizuki. “You’re a boy, aren’t you? Don’t slander the Uchiha name, child. You should change.”

“But I—” I stare at him some more. I force tears to my eyes and make my lip quiver. “I just . . . “ I start sobbing. “My—my mom used to tell me—I could do whatever I wanted and—and—” I sniff.

Genma appears beside me, putting a hand in front of Mizuki. “Now see what you’ve done? You’re making a child—who just had to watch his entire clan be murdered—cry. For no reason other than, what, he’s wearing a dress? Get over yourself. Reality check, Mizuki-kun, it’s just some fabric. You aren’t a civilian; don’t act like one.”

The girls start to console me as Genma leads Mizuki out of the room.

“Mizuki-sensei’s an asshole! I don’ like ‘im anyway! Stupid guy!” Naruto yells, holding out a fist.

When Genma comes back, I stop crying and wipe my face. “Now that he’s gone—”

“Sasuke! Stop manipulating people!” Genma scolds me.

“You manipulated him as much as I did! All I did was cry, it’s not that deep.”

“Wha—you were faking?” Sakura asks.

“Of course. I don’t let people get to me that easily. I may _cry_ easily, but I don’t break down easily. People are dumb and susceptible to manipulation. All you have to do is cry or play up your emotions, and a lot of people will bend to your will, or at least show sympathy.” 

“Noted,” Ino mutters, a distant look in her eyes. (Genma rolls his eyes. Stupid henge, I wanna see what he looks like in real life! He was always so pretty in the anime.)

Speaking of the anime, didn’t Dan—

My mind blanks. What was I thinking about?

”—ske, hey.” 

“Huh?” I ask intelligently.

“You seemed a little out of it,” Sakura says. “Are you okay, Sasuke-kun? Feelin’ a little outta your head?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. Something like that.”

I feel dizzy. I feel really, really dizzy.

“Lunchtime is over!” Iruka-sensei yells from the front of the classroom. “Everybody back to your seats, we’re going to be discussing how to track the trajectory of a kunai. C’mon, c’mon!”

Several tens of groans later, everybody is back in their seats.

I wonder what happened. What was I thinking about? Why did I go blank like that? I can’t remember a thing. My head hurts. My tongue hurts. My entire face hurts. I’m exhausted—I’m so tired. I’m so tired . . .

I start to doze off. Everything feels so hard, so cold, so bad—but I start to doze off.

_#_

I feel a tug at my—my— _something_ —it feels like it’s between, somehow, my blood and my bones, like a layer of _something_ around my bones, protecting them, but different. It’s like, it’s not like thin. It’s really thick and _there_ and how did I not notice this weird thing sooner? But I look in the direction of the weird tugging feeling—my arm. It feels like someone’s poking my arm.

Maybe this feeling is something with my chakra.

I try not to think about it, it’s class time, so I try not to get distracted, but Iruka-sensei mentions chakra and suddenly my arm is straight up in the air.

“Sasuke?” Iruka-sensei asks.

“What does chakra feel like when you aren’t using it?”

A moment of silence. “When you aren’t using it, huh? That’s a strange question. Well, I suppose it doesn’t really feel like anything to most people. You’re born with chakra, so to know what the difference is in having it and not having it . . . that’s a hard question to answer. Luckily, I have had my fair share of tenketsu blocked by Hyuuga friends, and I’ve had my entire chakra system blocked temporarily in the past, so I can take a guess.”

He grabs a piece of chalk and starts drawing on the chalkboard. “See, your chakra system as a young child is kind of wrapped around your bones. As you grow older, they kind of unwrap themselves and they’re just like arteries—and this process is usually about finished by the time you’re thirteen if you regularly use chakra, otherwise they stay wrapped around you, which is what you call an undeveloped chakra system. The majority of children and civilians don’t have developed chakra systems, so most of the world’s chakra is like this.” He puts a circle around the bone drawing with the wrapped tube. “Then of course, you have shinobi and civilians who do develop their chakra systems, and that just looks like this.” He circles the bone drawing with an unwrapped tube. “—so there you have how that looks.”

“Now, of course, there are seals and jutsus that will block your chakra pathways, and while typically you’d say you feel moderate pain or numbness from this, I’m of another opinion entirely. Your body is almost always in some sort of pain. Chakra makes it so you can’t feel that pain as much as you usually would. That’s why chakra exhaustion is so painful and dangerous. Some people, although rare, are actually born without chakra. And they don’t complain at all.”

“I know, I know, crazy, but they don’t know how it feels to have chakra, so they aren’t affected by minor pains as much. In any case, you asked what chakra feels like, so here we go. When you are developing your chakra pathways at an early age, like you are now, it’s very common to feel sudden aches and pains near your bones. In general, if you know the difference, it feels kind of smooth, or perhaps somewhat crumbly and hard, or maybe it even shocks you a little bit. It could feel like it burns, or it could feel like nothing at all. It depends on your affinity.” 

“I see. I was wondering because I didn’t notice before, but there’s a weird tickly soft, kinda . . .electric feeling around my bones. Does that sound like lightning affinity?” I tilt my head curiously, because Sasuke had lightning, but I think it’s possible for that to change and it’s possible I’m wrong. Also, lightning affinity sounds _really cool._

“Sounds like it. Lightning affinity is extremely rare in Konoha, so if you do for sure have it, play it safe and be careful.”

I nod.

I see. I’m not going to play it careful, I’m going to start a fucking revolution, Iruka-sensei, and using lightning to do so would be the icing on the cake. Hell yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was gonna be a lot more plot in this but i cut it out and put chakra stuff instead because it didn’t fit in this chapter. by the way, there’s a 0% chance of me posting for this regularly and quickly all the time. i have 5 hours of school a day and a job that takes up most of my time (i babysit my sisters kids almost everyday and that typically means watching children from 9 am until midnight and then passing out on her couch) so i don’t have much free time! sorry but well i mean i’m giving you this for free my guys you can’t have super good expectations. hope you liked it though!!! and sorry for the long notes


	3. cursory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i know i literally just updated like an hour ago but this chapters really short and angsty and i won’t be able to post again for like three weeks unless i manage to get some writing time in like shits gonna be intense for a bit irl
> 
> anyway here’s some angsty shit um i really don’t know what warning i’d out here just be careful reading it yknow it’s kinda really intense and not as well edited and good as the other chapters

The clock is ticking loudly. Tick, tick, tickticktick.

Where’s Genma?

In the walls, probably. Or somewhere else stupid.

I giggle.

I’m taking a test, I think.

I don’t know. There’s a sheet of paper in front of me. My name is half-written. My tongue hurts. My head hurts. I’m smiling. I’m smiling so so so big.

I don’t remember aaaannnyyythinggggg.

I thought about . . . something . . . dunno what, but now I can’t think can’tthinkcan’tthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkth—

Thinking is tough. I’m dizzy. Dizzydizzydizzy— 

Hah. The room is spinnnnnnnnninggggggggg—

Oh, I’m so tired. I feel like I didn’t sleep at allllllll last night even though I did but I’m so tired, tired tired tired so very tired.

I wanna sleep.

(So I do.)

_#_

When I open my eyes again, a man is in front of me. He looks worried. He’s kinda attractive (aesthetically—he’s very pretty but I’m not into adults, I’m sixteen, my guys.) He’s got a . . . senbon. In his mouth. It’s Genma, has to be. There’s a teacher too. Iruka-sensei? Probably. He’s pretty, and his scar isn’t nearly as prominent as Kishimoto made it out to be.

You can barely even see the difference in color, the only way I can tell is the skin looks slightly . . . waxier? there. Weird. It’s like my scars looked when I died—you couldn’t see unless you were looking for them.

I’m so tired. I blink.

Nobody’s in the room other than those two.

“Hello,” I say, voice slurred ever so slightly.

“Hey there, kiddo. You alright? You kinda, uh, passed out on your test. Barely even got through writing your name. Test stress?”

“Mmmm, just tired.” I shrug. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Kid, that’s a lie. I’m not just assigned to be your protection—I have to monitor your health, which includes sleep patterns. You got a whole ten hours of sleep last night.”

“Fuck you. Where’s your henge or mask or whatever?”

“What? Oh, fuck. Pretend you didn’t see,” Genma instructs me. He makes no move to hide his face.

“There’s a lot I have to pretend with. I’m so sick of pretending. Remember the time after we met?” I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m not thinking. What am I saying? That’s when it started, though, isn’t it? The . . . 

“Yeah?” 

My vision begins to get blurry. “He—my—m—my . . . ”

Everything goes dark.

_#_

“—fuck—ongue? I—eal?” 

My head . . .

“Yeah—like one, b—”

. . . feels minty. 

I close my eyes. 

“—blocking his memories. I don’t know who put it on him, but—deteriorating his—if it’s not off soon, he could—permanently. Not—to control—this part—I think—soon as possible—days.”

“What? Only—that’s—shit, man—today?”

I open my eyes.

“Genma?”

Genma startles, looking at me. He opens his mouth, but he’s hard to . . . it’s hard to understand. The words he’s saying. I don’t understand. I get bits and pieces, but I can’t—I can’t understand.

“Sa—okay—name?” He grabs my hand to lift me up, allowing me to lean against him. I’m so tired.

“Hmm . . . huh?”

“—kay?” He looks worried. He still isn’t wearing his mask.

“My mouth feels weird,” I say, done trying to understand him.

“—language? Iruka—real?” 

What? What is he saying? Why can’t he just speak English, or even Spanish? Fuck, I’m so pissed. I’m so tired. 

“Shit.” I glance at my cursing teacher. Iruka-sensei is rambling, rambling in words I don’t understand—words Sasuke would’ve understood. I wish I was really Sasuke. I wish I didn’t—I wish I knew his life too. I wish I knew what happened in the massacre . . . I wish I knew how Sasuke used to be. Used to think. How he saw the world.

“Sasuke,” Iruka-sensei interrupts my train of thought. He rambles in Japanese, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face and then he looks questioning. I furrow my brows.

Genma says something to Iruka-sensei in Japanese, and Iruka-sensei frowns, nods his head, and Genma holds my arms to my sides.

What?

What are they doing?

I try to struggle, but I can’t move. I can’t move, I can barely even breathe and only through my nose. Iruka-sensei pries my mouth open. I can’t understand most of what he’s saying, but I understand some Japanese. Only some. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he says to me, and I don’t get it I really don’t but—but suddenly—

_I can’t breathe._


	4. repression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya! long time no see, huh? not really ig. anyway
> 
> WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER FOUR!!!!! IMPORTANT!!!: in-depth talks about suicide after the bold #, ends at the next bold #, but there’s a lot of talk about suicide and death and murder in this! talk about blood and panic attacks, lots of suicidal ideation! this chapter is very depressing and you should definitely not read it if any of these things will bother you! i don’t want any of you getting hurt!!! there’s an anxiety attack in the second scene!! blood in the third scene!!! A LOT OF DEATH TALK THIS CHAPTER IS BASICALLY NOTHING BUT DEATH AND MENTAL DISORDERS!! careful reading this chapter if you choose to do so!
> 
> also — sasuke is very out of character for how i chose to portray the si/oc, but given what she’s been witness to out of seemingly nowhere......it makes more sense than keeping her as she was. don’t worry!! her attitude will be resolved soon! (also, feel free to refer to this version of sasuke with any pronouns you like, he she or they—they’re all fine!)

_Everything is red._

No, that’s not true. No, the sky is red. The clouds are dark . . . darker than I’ve ever seen them. Almost like they’re—black. I observe my surroundings hastily. There are shadeless black buildings all around me. The clouds, the buildings, the ground—all black. The sky is red. There are patches of red all over the ground in a meaningless pattern.

All I see is black and red.

And then the bodies start to _fall_.

_#_

“Sasuke,” I hear someone say.

I open my eyes, letting out a deep sigh. I feel warm. Calm. My throat is sore. My body feels perfectly . . . fine. I feel fine.

But I don’t.

Every time I blink, every time I breathe too deep, every time I try to talk. All I see is red. I almost—I almost can’t even remember. Anything. I can’t. Can’t remember what I did yesterday. I can barely remember anything outside of—of—that cursed fucking _red_.

I’ve always hated the color red.

When I look at Genma, all I see is red, and I _choke_. When I look at the walls, the floor, the blanket on my lap. It’s all red. Just. Red.

I don’t notice I’m crying until my eyes start to burn and choked up sobs are forcing themselves out of my throat violently and _I can’t breathe I can’t fucking_ **_breathe_** —

I squeeze my eyes shut and my arms are covering my neck and I’m practically screaming and I can’t get his face out of my head I can’t _breathe_ everything—everything just—fucking—

I swallow as much air as my lungs will allow me in some stupid attempt at calming down. This always used to make me panic more.

Four, seven, eight, four, seven, eight, four, seven—I blow air out of my mouth slowly. I’m pathetic. I’m fucking pathetic. _I’m okay._ I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m perfectly fine. Everything is okay.

I stare at my lap silently, no longer crying. I feel pathetic. Can it really be called a breakdown if it doesn’t last more than a couple of minutes? My breakdowns, my anxiety attacks, panic attacks, whatever—they never last long. Except that one time I . . .

I feel a hand hovering over my shoulder. I scoot away from it. I’m okay.

I don’t say a word.

I don’t even look at Genma. 

Nothing is red anymore, and a headache I didn’t notice I had is gone.

I’m okay.

(It felt like I spent years there.)

(But I have to be okay. I have to be okay. _I’m okay._ )

_#_

Genma takes me home. He takes my hand at some point in the night, ignores my protests, and within moments I’m. I’m there. At my . . . house. In—my room.

I take a deep breath. I feel dizzy.

I don’t speak.

I pull my hand away from Genma’s and leave the room. He stumbles in his attempt to follow me out and down the stairs and out the door and—

And I leave. I leave the house. I walk down the streets and I walk and I walk and—and I instinctively reach for the top of someone’s front door. I can’t reach it. I look at Genma. He sighs and reaches up there for me until he finds it. The key. He hands it to me.

“What’s goin’ on kiddo? What happened when we removed . . . it?” the man asks.

I don’t ignore him. I just don’t answer.

I put the key into the door’s lock, twist, and shove the door wide open.

. . . and I immediately regret it.

I guess they only cleaned up outside and in my house. What did they expect, that I just wouldn’t go to the other fucking houses?

Probably, actually.

I stare at the dark stains on the tile floor. I look outside. Ignoring the stench, it’s really not as bad as it could’ve been. I look at Genma. He looks disturbed. I sigh.

Walking to the kitchen, past the patch of dried blood, I wonder. I wonder how the real Sasuke would have reacted to this.

Probably not the same way I am.

He wouldn’t have come here at all.

“Kid?”

I ignore him, this time, and I pull out a jug of bleach. A bucket. An unopened pack of washcloths. And I walk back to the room with the blood stain.

It’s awfully convenient their mudroom had tile rather than wood. (The wood would _rot_.)

I wonder who died here.

(And I regret wondering. Because I know. I know exactly who died here. I _saw her die_.)

And as I clean, Genma is still as stone behind me. He doesn’t say a word. 

I don’t say a word.

The sound of our breathing feels too loud.

_#_

I remember when I died.

I remember—I remember looking all over on the internet, trying to find anything. Anything to convince me to stay alive. I remember a multitude of “it’ll get better!” posts on tumblr, “you’re going to be just fine” “it’s okay” “it won’t be this way forever” “the storm will pass”. I remember it all. I remember thinking, _fuck, dude, that’s bullshit_. It was bullshit. All this, this fucking _you’ll get better_ BULLSHIT.

I didn’t. I didn’t listen. None of them knew anything about chronic depression. About the way the world was. About the shit—the shit I would have to live through if I stayed.

None of it. 

(Nobody ever said how long it would take. How many years, hours, _lives_ it would take for me to be— _better_.)

I remember dying. I remember being relieved when my vision got spotty. I remember regretting it. I remember thinking about my counselor. My nephews and niece. My friend. Not a single thought toward my parents or my siblings.

I remember crying just before—just before everything was _gone_ and suddenly I was here.

I wonder if any of them care.

I doubt it. 

_**#** _

“Genma?” I finally speak, just hours before I should be waking up. I spent the day going through houses and shops, cleaning blood stains and in some cases getting Genma to remove the boards that were ruined beyond reparation. 

“Yeah, kiddo?” he asks, quiet in the silence that had followed my question.

I take a deep breath. “Why didn’t they clean it?”

More silence.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying, Genma. Please don’t lie to me.”

“They didn’t want to waste their resources.”

“Of course not. I’m just some weirdo whose brother—fucking. He killed them right in front of me. He made me watch him kill _everyone_ —a genjutsu. He used genjutsu and it felt like. It felt—like forever. It was. It was forever. Or it might as well have been. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough years of memories to replace the time he shoved into my mind. The same thing, over and over. And over. It wasn’t always the same, I guess. I was showed different angles and different methods of killing, different people. At the end . . . at the end, I was buried shoulder-deep in blood and bodies and. I wanted to die.” Again.

Genma doesn’t speak, again, and I know he’s staring at me. Thinking. Wondering. Contemplating. I know he’s curious. It’s a morbid curiosity, sure, but I was curious too. Before it happened to me. I always wondered. I’d never really lost anyone, before, not by death. I’d never seen someone die. Not someone I knew, that is.

(I remember her face when she died. I remember the peaceful smile that adorned her face when the rope tightened. When the chair fell. I remember crying for hours and hours—because I didn’t know her, but I _could have_. But she died. But there were people who knew her. But she _died_. She died right in front of my eyes, and I didn’t tell a soul. I couldn’t. I wasn’t the only one who witnessed it, I know. But I didn’t do _anything_. It was so sudden. I didn’t see it until—until it was already too late.)

(I remember hearing her neck _snap_ , and I remember wondering if I cared because other people cared, or if I really truly cared. I never had cared when people died before, so why start then? I remember thinking I would never kill myself.)

(But I did. I did.)

_**#** _

I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake up, it’s to the sound of whistling. The sound of a spatula scraping food off of a pan. The sound of water running.

I don’t open my eyes.

(If I open my eyes, if I acknowledge that I’m awake, if I can _see_ —it’s like giving up. It’s like admitting to myself that I am alive. That I am Sasuke. That I’m real.)

(I don’t want to be alive. That’s why I died in the first place, isn’t it?)

I pull my blanket, my pillow, my hands over my head. Over my eyes.

This isn’t real.

_It’s so bright. It’s too bright._

I breathe slowly, squeeze my eyes shut, cover my ears with my hands. This isn’t real. I’m dead. _I’m dead._

“Sasuke?” I hear from the door. “Hey, I can tell you’re up. I made breakfast. Are you feelin’ alright, kid?”

_I’m a kid again and I can’t even enjoy it for a second, can’t act like a kid, can’t do anything I want to, all because I’m Uchiha fucking Sasuke. All because I’m in a fucking ninja world with magic powers and the same damn issues the previous world had. Why couldn’t I have just died like I was supposed to?_

“Sasuke?” I hear again. I bite my lip. “Hey . . . are you okay? Should I tell your teacher you won’t be going today?”

I don’t answer, just flip over from my back onto my side. Pull my knees to my chest. This isn’t real.

“I’ll . . . I’ll bring your food up. And a bottle of water, yeah . . . or a thermos full of tea, actually. Lavender, right? That’s your favorite?” I can hear Genma chew his senbon. Hear his feet tapping around on the floor. Is he pacing or fidgeting? Leaving? Is he leaving me? “I’m leaving,” he says, and my throat tightens. My heart _hurts_. “But I’ll be back in five minutes, okay? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

I wonder if he’ll break his promise like everyone else always does. Did. Like they always did. 

They’re gone now.

But I know there’s a world full of people like them surrounding me. And, god, do I wish there wasn’t.

_God._

I wish . . . I wish.

I inhale lightly, exhale heavily. It feels like no time has passed at all since Genma left me. But my door opens. Footsteps make their way toward my bed. There’s a light clatter on my bedside table—a plate being set down, or even a bowl. And another. Heavier. The thermos, presumably.

There’s a sigh. Right above me.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I’m sorry.”

I hold my breath.

_What are you sorry for?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~this chapter is only as depressing and badly written as it is because i’m projecting H a~~


	5. recognition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! i’ve been avoiding doing schoolwork and writing, and everything really bc of depression (FUCK depression!!!) but!! here’s chapter five, after almost five months!!! i hope you guys like it bc i feel really good about this chapter—which i kinda have to since i’ve rewritten it about twenty times dhdjdsbsj
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS!!: mc’s in a really weird mindset throughout the chapter until about the last twentyish words i wanna say?, mc has a weird dream which i wrote while super sleep deprived so it’s probably weird as fuck to read but it feels like soemthing id dream abt yknow?, multiple mentions of death but like not explicit, nonexplicit mention of puking, nonexplicit suicidal thoughts i think?? it’s wntirely possible other people won’t see it as suicidal though just not sure
> 
> just a lot of weird not at all explicit mental bullshit!!!! i don’t THINK it’ll trigger anyone, but i do think it is possible bc obviously i’m not anyone else so i can’t know how things will affect you and um!!!! i’m really sleep deprived so please don’t mind my stupid talking and shit and enjoy the chapter!!! HOPEFULLY, if everything goes right, chapter six will be out within the next week, but i’m not sure yet!! have a nice day everyone and i hope you’re all feeling awesome!!

The next month passes in a blur. A slow, colorless blur. At least, that’s what it feels like. I don’t know. I don’t. Really. Remember much. I haven’t worn a dress since before. Or a skirt, or anything other than Sasuke’s old clothes.

I haven’t gone to school in a month. Haven’t so much as opened my curtains. I just eat and sleep and drink and eat and eat and sleep and _sleep_ and all I do is exist. All I do is exist.

Maybe I should just go back to canon. Make myself more like him. Kill Itachi, be Naruto’s rival, hate the girls in the class. Maybe it isn’t worth it to try to change things. Maybe change is like a rubber band—when I pull it tight, it draws back twice as hard.

Maybe changing things now won’t change a fucking thing and it’s just like Neji said. Maybe I can’t change Sasuke’s fate.

Maybe I’m destined to run away wherever I go.

If I stop running, maybe someday I’ll finally—

“Hey, Sasuke,” Genma shouts from the bottom of the stairs, “I’m making udon! Want some?”

I close my eyes.

I’m so fucking scared to live.

I don’t know if I can do this again.

_#_

Sometimes simply breathing is so fucking hard I feel like I’m drowning, and I think of Sasuke and I think of his cousin—Shisui—and those _fucking_ memories appear and I can’t breathe and I can’t think and _god_ we drank that water, we drank that water for a whole three days before he was found and we puked so much we puked so much his stomach fucking bled I still can’t even look at the river I can—I can’t—I—

I can’t fucking breathe.

_I can’t._

I didn’t even _know_ him.

Why am I crying?

_#_

“I’m sorry,” Genma says.

He keeps fucking saying that. Why does he keep saying that? Why?

Why are you sorry, Genma? Why are you sorry? What are you sorry for? What did you do? What are you _apologizing_ for? Why, why, why?

I don’t voice the question, instead saying “yeah” and rolling over in my bed to look the opposite direction.

Why, Genma? Why are you so fucking sorry?

It takes minutes to fall asleep, my body and mind both so fucking exhausted I can’t stand to be awake any longer.

_#_

Today, Genma brings me a heavy folder, full of papers. His senbon isn’t anywhere within sight.

“We’re going to catch you up on your schoolwork and lessons,” he says, steel in his voice.

It isn’t an option, cooperation is the only choice he is giving me. I blink slowly, the post comparing Sasuke to a cat appearing in my mind for a moment, before nodding.

“I can do that.”

Genma wasn’t prepared for me to agree, apparently, given the shock decorating his features—his shoulders tense, eyebrows jump, eyes widen—and the “huh?” that spills out suddenly.

It almost makes me laugh, but I settle for an easy smile. I probably look high, the way my brother used to leaving the basement—or even the way my sister’s fiance did when he smoked or drank too much, just before he’d start a fight with her. Weird grin, red eyes, little wobbly with every move. I hate it, so I stop smiling, sit up, and take a long drink of water to settle myself. It doesn’t help, doesn’t even seem like water I’m drinking.

I take a deep, deep breath. And, again, I turn to look at Genma. Wonder why he hasn’t talked yet—he’s almost never silent for so long.

“ _Oh_ ,” I gasp with a sudden pain in my neck. I blink and it’s gone, and Genma isn’t even there.

What?

I look at the clock on my wall, noting the time, then look out the window.

Wait, what? It’s not supposed to be dark out at noon. The sky’s practically pitch black—what the hell?

“Genma?” I call out, rising to my feet, swaying as I do. I take notice of the swirly texture the _air_ seems to have, realize it isn’t normal.

It takes two seconds for me to understand, another three to grab a kunai, and one to swing it toward myself and—

When I open my eyes—did I close them?—I’m back in my bed, on my stomach, face in the pillow, feeling way too warm and way too cold at the same time.

Just a dream?

A dream, huh.

When I close my eyes again, I drift off into an easy sleep with no dreams.

Just darkness and a weird buzzing sound that won’t go away.

_#_

When I wake up, my head hurts, and I feel weird. Like I’m missing something. Like I’m forgetting something important.

I try not to let it bug me, the same way I try not to let Genma’s stares as I go through my day like the last month hasn’t affected me whatsoever bug me.

I take a glance at the calendar, which Genma makes a point to mark off everyday when I come down to use the bathroom. As if I don’t realize the passing days, as if I don’t understand that I’m _wasting my time_ , focusing on things that don’t matter. Things that shouldn’t affect me—things that the real Sasuke ignored in favor of getting better, working harder, doing what he needed to get to where he wanted to be.

But I’m not Sasuke. I’m not him. I shouldn’t even _exist_. I’m supposed to be dead! I’m supposed to be fucking dead, but here I am! Here I fucking am.

This is me, you could say. This is me. A fake Sasuke, for all it fucking matters. It’s not like I could make things worse. Kishimoto fucked things up enough as it was.

Was, I suppose, is the key word. Was. Things _were_ fucked up. He _fucked_ things up.

What he wrote doesn’t apply anymore, I realize.

I am not Sasuke.

I am NOT Sasuke.

I’m . . . I’m . . .

_I’m his replacement._

I can fix things? I can change things?

It takes a moment for this information to sink in.

When the moment passes, I stand. I turn to my right, I take a step, and I say to Genma—”I need to catch up on the academy curriculum, and I need you to train me.”

This is my first step. This is where I will start. I _will_ succeed, or I will be nothing at all.


	6. sasuke goes shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya friendos! this is. a little later than i would’ve liked and less plotty than i would’ve liked, but i wrote this in a day and i’m happy w it so! post time! no warnings for this chapter unless you hate happy sasuke shopping and blowing all the uchiha Money. oh, right, and, it’s filler. but if you remove filler from a fic it usually sucks anyway so dw abt it.

“What?” Genma asks.

“I want you to help me catch up and train,” I repeat. I guess my behaviour would confuse him, after all, he’s spent the last month trying to help me out of this.

He doesn’t understand. It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect him to.

After all, most people don’t come out of a funk on their own out of nowhere after months of being unable to even speak, most of the time.

I get it. He doesn’t need to understand, anyway. It’s my problem, not his.

“Okay. I’ll get Iruka to compile a folder of things you've missed,” the man says simply, an odd expression as he stares at me.

I nod. “I’m going to the village— _alone._ Do you know where my wallet is?”

_#_

The first shop I go to is called Yajū—literally meaning beast. I find that absolutely hilarious, given the shop is funded by the Green Beast himself—Maito Gai.

My other option is Hotaru—firefly. I’ve been there before, though, and I don’t like their clothes. This place is much more my style, and I could certainly use the emotional intensity Yajū employees offer.

. . . Gai has a relatively large fan group for someone who is rarely in-village. That’s all I’ll say about the employees here. Genma also seems to be a big fan, being his teammate and all. He really does love his team though, jokes aside. It’s kind of adorable the way he gushes on about them.

Anyway. It takes me longer than I would’ve liked, but eventually I realize I’m kind of useless at shopping on my own here. I don’t . . . understand the sizes. There, I said it. I don’t understand these sizes and I don’t know what’s going to fit _anyway._ Back in my old life, I rarely went to the store. We were poor, I couldn’t afford shit. When I did go shopping, though? I was a lot bigger than an eight-year-old, and men’s sizes were fucking weird.

 _This_ isn’t going to go very well alone. So, I suck up my dumbass “stranger danger!” shit and I ask someone for help.

“Excuse me, uh, Kozue-san? I’m not sure what size I wear. Do you think you could help me?” I ask, playing the “I’m an innocent kid” thing up for sympathy.

The woman smiles, giving me an understanding nod. “Uchiha-san! Of course, I would be happy to help! What are you looking to find?”

“I’m not sure. I want clothes for training, ‘cause, like. I have clothes, of course, but they’re _civilian_ made, so they’re a lot less sturdy and a lot harder to clean—least that’s what Genma said—and he also said dresses are hard to train in. But also, isn’t it _better_ to learn to do things in slightly more difficult circumstances before you learn to do them normally—or at least do both instead of just the easier stuff. Because, I’m obviously not always going to be in good fighting clothes when shit happens, right? I can’t always be prepared. So, maybe, if there’s shinobi strength dresses and skirts and stuff, that’d be cool. I don’t know,” I ramble embarrassingly.

Kozue doesn’t seem to mind. She laughs at my rant and leads me to the kunoichi section. “You’re right, Uchiha-san! Most often, when a shinobi is attacked in their own home or village, they are in civvies. Usually, shinobi don’t wear fight-appropriate clothes outside of training or missions. Personally, I don’t think even the Hokage wears shinobi-grade outfits one-hundred percent of the time. And have you seen how baggy those robes are?”

She pulls a few dresses from the rack as she speaks. “Shinobi clothes . . . They’re uncomfortable to sleep in, actually, and it’s recommended that you change your clothes at least every forty-eight hours to prevent chafing and rashes. You don’t need to wash them as much, though. They’re designed for messes to kind of . . . wipe right off. Really convenient on chili night.”

I laugh as she shoves a pile of clothes into my arms and ushers me to the changing rooms.

“Here, try these on and let me know if they fit or you don’t like them.”

I do as I’m told and leave the store with nearly a dozen different outfits and a new pair of shoes.

Looking at the receipt—handwritten, which I still find weird—I wonder if I should slow down on the spending. I’ve got four years to go before I get an income of my own and I still have to pay taxes and utility fees.

Eh. I can always do odd jobs or ask Genma for help if I do run out.

“Hey, Sorashi-san,” I say as I push open the door to Hatake Ink. The Hatake clan founded the shop, but upon their near extinction, the shop was given to the Inuzuka clan. To this day, they refuse to rename the shop. “How’s your day been?”

“Oh, hey, kid! Things have been just as well as you mighta expected, had _two_ kids try ‘n’ steal shit today. Why the hell they wanna steal normal paper, I might never know. How ‘bout you? Doin’ some shoppin’?”

“Yup,” I say, “and speaking of that, you got any sealing scrolls I can buy? I know you don’t tend to sell them but uh, I left my shopping cart—” referring to Genma, “—at home. I’ll give you five hundred ryo.”

“Six hundred, and you’ve got a deal,” she responds.

I raise an eyebrow. “Five-fifty and I’ll get new school supplies here today.”

She laughs.

(I get the scroll for five hundred.)

_#_

Eventually, I make my way to the weapons shop down the road.

The sign doesn’t show a name, just a stylized kunai with the kanji for “kage” underneath.

Inside, however, I'm instantly greeted by a young girl. “Hello! Welcome to Shiranui Weapons and Poisons, how can I help you today?”

I immediately recognize the girl. Tenten. And I almost can’t help it—

“You’re a Shiranui?”

The sudden question doesn’t faze her, surprisingly.

“No, I’m a ward of the clan. Why do you ask?” she responds.

I blink. That actually makes sense. “I’m so sorry for the insensitive question,” I tell her, “I just recognized you from the year above mine and—“ time for a bad excuse, “—I know a Shiranui and I remember him saying there aren’t any clan kids in the academy right now . . . Um! Anyway!”

I scan the room behind the counter. The store is set up weirdly. Well. Not _weird._ Just different than most. The only accessible part of the store by visitors and customers is in front of the cash register/counter area. Everything else, poisons and potions, weapons and stuff, all behind a barrier—that’s what Genma said. I think it’s both to protect unskilled hands and to protect against burglary or petty theft/shoplifting.

I don’t know. I must be stuck in my head for a minute, because Tenten snaps her fingers in front of me.

“You good, bro? I asked what you’re looking for?”

“Oh!” I exclaim. “I got distracted. I need a pack of standard kunai, standard shuriken, and two packs of Shiranui-standard senbon. And I don’t have clearance to buy poisons yet, so is it possible to just remove that from the senbon pack?”

“Of course. The cost for the poison will be deducted,” Tenten says, “will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“That’ll be two thousand ryo, then.”

And that’s why Naruto has dull kunai, my friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to ignore this note, i’m just blabbing about my life! hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> summers going by so fast! feels like just yesterday school ended, but it was over a month ago, and there’s just over a month until school starts again.....not excited! but also kind of excited? idk, itd be nice to have something productive to take up my time. i’ve got testing on august 1st though. yoikes.
> 
> but, anyway, hope you all have awesome days and enjoy your lives as much as you can! things aren’t easy but you gotta at least try to get through. because, someday, you might get away from whatever’s stressing you out, and wouldn’t that be great? in the meantime, the more enjoyment you can force out of your life, the better. good luck, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> if you like, feel free to leave a kudos/comment, and if there’s anything that needs editing (i do my own editing), please let me know in the comments! thank you for reading!
> 
> if youre lgbt and wanna talk to HUMANS about STUFF in this lgbt naruto discord server tHAT I AM IN,,,,,,[here's the post](http://aphrodeis.tumblr.com/post/183616385876/hi-im-giorno-and-this-is-my-lgbt-naruto-server) the creator made about the server+the link!!!!


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